


Foul Play in Partnership

by heroictype (swanreaper)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, corporate evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:25:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanreaper/pseuds/heroictype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to find someone who "gets" you when you run a corporation - the long hours, the paperwork, the cold-blooded threats. Sometimes, you need a partner. (WTNV/Wolf 359 crossover)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foul Play in Partnership

**Author's Note:**

> I'd posted this one on tumblr already, but I figured I'd put it up here, too. Lauren Mallard and Mr. Cutter seem like they'd get along great. Inspired in large part by [this](http://smilodonmeow.tumblr.com/post/137619253730/wolf-359wtnv-writingart-prompts%E2%80%9D).

 

Mr. Cutter didn’t have time for this. He kept a careful schedule, filling up his day with activities as if it were a filing cabinet. And so, unscheduled activities were essentially the equivalent of someone just barging into his office and throwing the papers around.

Now, reorganizing time in a way that could correct any errors was still a work in progress. The science behind it was difficult, and he couldn’t help but feel that if it were anything other than a lost cause, they would have been reaping the benefits decades ago. 

But they told him often enough, the science was there, and as long as the money was, too, one day - wasn’t that funny - they would crack time open wide for him. He expected it would be just as fruitful as space, or he wouldn’t have maintained his investment.

For example, when the project was complete, he could have the person sitting across from him uninvited removed for the interruption. He would have her removed again and again, and then he’d go back before the meeting, with his knowledge of anything to gain from it intact, and go about his day as planned.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and said, “Ms. Mallard, wasn’t it? I’m… curious about how you got in here?”

“I have an appointment, obviously.” She was smiling, and the expression revealed an extra molar more on each side than human lips should have stretched to. Maybe. He didn’t make it a habit to count people’s teeth, honestly.

“Really?” Somehow, the best response that Cutter could muster was to push his own smile wider. “Gaia, what was on my schedule for today at-” He glanced down. “-12:17?”

_“A meeting with Lauren Mallard, sir.”_

He straightened, squaring his shoulders against the fancy leather chair he’d worked so hard for. “And who scheduled this? Was it you, Gaia?”

There was a pause, but the AI was ultimately incapable of answering without a tremor. Cutter didn’t have the patience for it, and he appreciated Gaia’s smooth reply.  _“No. You did, sir.”_

“I see.”

Lauren Mallard shook her head. “Listen, Mr. Cutter. You and I are both very busy people. I know, trust me. Trust me.” She leaned back, too, no less comfortable in Cutter’s office than her own. “I promise, what I have to suggest isn’t a waste of time _or_ space. I think you’ll find that I have some very productive suggestions for your company, that will _also_ do wonders for morale.” She was beaming now, and it revealed another pair of teeth.

“Really? Now, that’s strange - we here at Goddard Futuristics pride ourselves on a friendly, fun company culture. I just…” He waved his hands, fingers splayed wide. “…don’t see how we could possibly improve on what’s the best.”

“Funny thing,” she replied, lifting an arm across her chest and raising an index finger. She actually wagged it at him, too. “Just because you’re the best that exists, you know, in this microcosm of reality - hardly anything, wow - doesn’t mean that better can’t be created. All you need are the materials.” As she finished, she peered around his office as if contemplating an expansion and some new hardwood fixtures. 

“And you have these materials,” he said. It was more a threat than a question, with the consequences of not having them hanging like an unspoken guillotine between them.

“StrexCorp has them. A Smiling God has them.”

“And you represent Strexcorp?”

She laughed. “You don’t even know who you’re meeting with? You _really_ need to be more thoughtful, Mr. Cutter.” Shaking her head, she corrected, “I’m the vice president of Strexcorp.”

“Oh, my.”

“I know, I know, you’re wondering, what have I done to earn this little visit? Well, Mr. Cutter, Goddard Futuristics has caught our attention as an up-and-coming member of the business community.”

“Ah, Ms. Mallard, Goddard Futuristics has wholly cornered the market on private space travel and research. I believe it’s more like we up-and-came-and-outdid all the competition.” Devoured them, really, but she was proving to be such polite company. 

“Oh, believe me. I know,” she chirped. “But that brings me to my reason for coming here today. You see… We at Strexcorp are curious about the stars. Very… curious.” She drifted off, her gaze straying to the air just above Cutter’s head. “They give such a brilliant light, and yet, we can hardly see any of it. And where does it come from? It is not the wholesome, pure light of a Smiling God.” 

She sounded almost playfully cross, but her teeth gleamed, too white, in her wide mouth. The hunger there was very real, and he wouldn’t have seen it, but it matched his own.

“So you want us to provide you with that information.” Now, it was his turn to grin; light, jovial, but just a bit too vicious to be a smile. She’d played an important card from her hand, and he could name the price now. Whether or not it was worth triple or ten times what she asked depended on her. “But if we’re going to cut a deal, Ms. Mallard, well… We are a business not, I must remind you, a nonprofit research institution. What do you have for me?”

“I am prepared to offer you… this.” She held out an envelope. It was addressed to him, and posted. Where the return address should have been, there was a small, orange triangle sticker.

He arched an eyebrow, and reached out to take the offering. He withdrew a letter opener from his desk and sliced through the paper in one neat motion. He teased the letter free carefully. He unfolded it. He read it. His eyebrows rose. “Well. That is certainly a suggestion.”

“A good one,” she filled in.

“A brilliant one, I have to admit. Hm.” He leaned forward on the desk, looking at her with fresh respect. “Alright. Let’s talk, Ms. Mallard.”

She laughed innocently. “So what have we been doing until now?”

He faced her, his own smile sharpened to a point by cold thoughts. “You know.”

She tapped a finger to her chin, and considered him for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

She offered him a hand, and he shook it. They saw a long, mutually beneficial partnership stretching out before them - and at the end of the road, a singularly beneficial betrayal. But that’s business for you. 


End file.
